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Interpret: The Beatnuts Žánr: Národnost: - Poslední album: |
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!!! POZOR SOUTĚŽ !!! |
SOUTĚŽ!Další soutěž vyhlásíme již brzy. |
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VÝSLEDEK HLEDÁNÍ
TEXTY PÍSNÍ / THE BEATNUTS / 2-3 BREAK |
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| texty písní | mp3 | videoklipy | biografie | koncerty | wallpapery | obrázky | diskuze |
2-3 BREAKInterpret: The Beatnuts Text písně People call me the drunk, off the thick funk Just to prove I'm ?luida? bag your whole start like ?meshuda? Click back, put a hollow point cap in your temple We get caught, it's strictly mental A stone crook, I don't go by the book You can't fool me with your gangsta look I've truncated ??? on my turf for wet pay When I roll a blunt, they'd better roll away Out, and don't try talking bold Cause I'll smack you with a bat just like 'Walking Tall' What? You punk, who's gonna defend you? When I bumrush your as* and stick an icepick in you Quick, your bit*h caught a splinter from my dick Cause she gave me a woodie in the parking lot behind Mc- Donald's, the bed slammer again stick 'em both With my king-size dick, and Donna King sized hand again *gunshot* '2, 3, Break!' I go so much of this style coming from my lips while Washed-up ducks get dumped in motherf**king sh*t piles Bang, I got my own thang, gang ain't a proper Drop a, hollow-point shelly on a copper Let 'em f**king know who's Kool where I'm coming from Slept for a while on my style now I'm stunning 'em Bagging 'em, plus I hit their hoes in the mean Cause all I ever want is fame, bit*hes, and the green Seen crazy niggas get lost in the shuffle With dreams turned to rubble then bust like a bubble Ta-dow, now, that's how it's falling Whether I'm hitting skins or motherf**king ballin Hanging with my crew on the Peakskill plain I throw my sh*t when laying a bit*h so get off my dick Trick, you know my style, no it ain't no use Cause I keep your hoes wet like a f**king douche *gunshot* '2, 3, Break!' Taking 'em out, no hass, I be the owner of my rhymes Will make niggas collapse into a coma Product of a concrete hell, I'm on a mission Deadly with intent to shell the opposition f**king with this flow, come on, yo that's treason Niggas f**k around and get shot for no reason Junkyard nigga, represent everytime Corona's in the house and yo Gab! (Bust and rip the skills!) My rhymes wake up to a 9.4, ready for war Come up, I false my fronts with your spinal chord Before I got the drive, I possess and tox And I'm trying to survive under a cyanide landslide But that ain't nothing like a penny anymore Cause I assault niggas who couldn't launch sh*t with catapaults So if you ever hear the name Gab One Don't even sweat it, the worst hasn't even begun Word up, it's like that, Beatnus, Triflicts in the house, kid 19, and one, you know what I'm saying? Word Komentáře |